Thanks to the skill of Don Prospero, exerted with kind assiduity,
Hamersley's wounds are soon healed, his strength completely restored.
Doubtless the tender nursing of the "angel" has something to do with his
rapid recovery, while her presence, cheerful as gentle, does much to
remove the gloom from his spirits, caused by the terrible disaster he
had sustained. Long before reaching convalescence he has ceased to
lament the loss of his property, and only sorrows as he reflects on the
fate of his brave followers, whose lives were sacrificed in the effort
to preserve it.
Happily, however, as time passes the retrospect of the red carnage loses
something of its sanguinary hue, its too vivid tints becoming gradually
obscured in the oblivion of the past with the singular surroundings of
the present. Amid these his spirit yields itself to pleasanter
reflections. How could it be otherwise?
Still, with restored strength, his curiosity has been increasing, till
it has reached a point of keenness requiring to be satisfied. He
wonders at all around him, especially the strange circumstance of
finding his old friend and duelling second in such an out-of-the-way
place. As yet, Miranda has only given him a hint, though one pretty
much explaining all. There has been a revolution; and they are
refugees.
But the young Kentuckian is curious to learn the details, about which,
for some reason, the Mexican has hitherto preserved silence. His
reticence has been due to an injunction of the doctor, who, still under
some anxiety about the recovery of his patient, forbade imparting to him
particulars that might have an injurious effect on his nervous system,
sadly debilitated by the shock it has received.
Don Prospero is an acute observer. He perceives the growing interest
which Hamersley takes in the sister of his host. He knows the story of
the Chihuahua duel; and thinks that the other story--that of the
disastrous revolution--told in detail, might retard the convalescence of
his patient. Counselled by him, Colonel Miranda has refrained from
communicating it.
Ignorant of the cause, Hamersley is all the more eager to learn it.
Still, his curiosity does not impel him to importunate inquiry. In the
companionship of such kind friends he can afford to be patient.
Walt Wilder has no curiosity of any kind. His thoughts have become
centred, his whole soul wrapped up in Conchita. The heart of the
colossal hunter has received a shock such as it never had before; for,
as he declared himself, he is in love for the first time in his life.
Not but that he has made love before, after a fashion. For he has
shared his tent with more than one Indian squaw, drank and danced with
those nondescript damsels who now and then find their way to the forts
of the fur-traders scattered among the Rocky Mountains and along the
border-land of the prairies. To all this he has confessed.
But these have been only interludes, "trifling love scrapes." His
present affair with the little mestiza is different. Her sparkling
black eyes pierced deeper and more direct--"straight plum-centre to his
heart," as, in professional jargon, he described it.
The invalid is at length convalescent; the doctor removes the seal of
injunction placed upon the lips of Colonel Miranda, and the latter
fulfils his promise made to give a narrative of the events which have
led to their residence in that remote and solitary spot.
The two seated together sipping Paseno wine and smoking cigars, the
Mexican commences his tale.
"We are refugees, as I've already stated, and came here to save our
heads. At least, there was danger of my losing mine--or, rather, the
certainty of it--had we not succeeded in making our escape from
Albuquerque. The word _pronunciamento_ explains all. A revolt of the
troops under my command, with a name, that of the leader, will give you
a key to the whole affair."
"Uraga!" exclaims Hamersley, the word coming mechanically from his red
lips; while a cloud passes over his brow, and a red flush flecks the
pallor on his cheeks. "Captain Uraga! 'Twas he?"
"It was."
"The scoundrel! I thought so."
"Not Captain Uraga now, but Colonel; for the reward of his treason
reached him simultaneously with its success, and the traitor is now in
command of the district from which I have been, deposed. Not only that,
but, as I have heard, he has appropriated my house--the same where,
twelve months ago, I had the pleasure of showing you some hospitality.
Contrasting it with our present humble abode, you will see, senor, that
my family affairs have not prospered, any more than my political
fortunes. But to the narration.
"Not long after you left us I made application to the Government for an
increase to the mounted force at my disposal. This had become necessary
for due protection of the district from our warlike neighbours in the
west--the Navajoes. They had made several raids upon the river
settlements, and carried off goods, cattle, and a number of captives.
The force I had made requisition for was obtained; but not the right
men, or at least the officers I should have chosen to command it. A
troop of light cavalry was sent me--Lancers. You may imagine my
chagrin, not to say disgust, when I saw Captain Gil Uraga at its head.
Marching into the town of Albuquerque, he reported himself for duty.
"I need not tell you how unpleasant it was for me to have such a fellow
for subordinate. In addition to our Chihuahua duel, there were many
reasons for my having an aversion to him--one, and not the least, that
which I have already hinted to you--his pretensions to be the suitor of
my sister."
Hamersley writhes as he listens, the red spot on his cheek spreading and
flushing redder.